


An Angel Into the Devil's Cage

by AlexisJane, dapatty, s0ckpupp3t



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Audio Format: M4B, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, Flashbacks, M/M, Podfic & Podficced Works, Public Masturbation, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-23
Updated: 2014-08-23
Packaged: 2018-02-09 05:23:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1970553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexisJane/pseuds/AlexisJane, https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty, https://archiveofourown.org/users/s0ckpupp3t/pseuds/s0ckpupp3t
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean loses himself to the road and finds himself in the rain thinking of Sam -- how he's going to get him back and all the things he misses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Angel Into the Devil's Cage

  
**Download Links:(right click, save as)** [mp3 (8.0MB)](http://dapatty.parakaproductions.com/Pod%20Together/An%20Angel%20In%20The%20Devils%20Cage.mp3) |[m4b (7.8MB)](http://dapatty.parakaproductions.com/Pod%20Together/An%20Angel%20Into%20The%20Devil's%20Cage.m4b)  


Somewhere between one state and the next, Dean stopped paying attention to the mile markers. Hell, if he was being honest with himself--not that he liked to--he’d stopped paying attention to everything for a while now. Locking your brother up with the Devil will do that to a guy. 

He couldn’t stop; he knew that if he did, he’d never start again. Putting down roots would be admitting defeat, would mean truly that he’d given up. If Dean Winchester was anything, ‘quitter’ wasn’t it. Especially when there was an absence he could feel in his bones, something that couldn’t be drowned out by the classic rock pouring from his speakers or the almost-nothingness of the plains rushing past his windshield. He didn’t look at the passenger seat. 

He kept going, pausing long enough to shower in some truck stop in the desolate dawn of Iowa. It was a blur corn fields buzzing with bees and beef jerky wrappers. He considered straying into towns and cities, kept looking at bars in sight of the interstate but driving past them, thought about the slow clean burn of whiskey or a girl in tight jeans, tried to remember what those things used to do for him. He felt nothing. He slapped the steering wheel and tensed his jaw. He was a man reduced to trying to lose himself in tarmac and a sky stretching as far as the flat land in front of him, driving until the road ended or the wheels fell off. 

Halfway through the summer with four ghosts salted and burned and three demons banished, he smelled rain on the wind. Eyeing green-tinged skies and clouds angry, dark gray, he floored it, willing the car faster along the deserted road and into the wall of rain a mile ahead of him. He reached across the passenger seat for the first time in days and cranked up Sammy’s window, the way he would have if his brother were asleep and snoring like a big doofus, reclined in the Impala’s soft seats. He nearly got his own shut as the first drops of water hit the hood.

He felt a twinge at the thought, and shook his head, but it didn’t go away. As the car was engulfed by the downpour and the scent of rain permeated the car, Dean was hit with a sense memory so hard that he had to pull over, screeching to a halt in the gravel on the shoulder. 

Dean should have been more careful with his baby’s tires, but he was busy, lost in phantom fingers digging into his hips and the way he could almost hear the squeak of leather against the drag of wet denim.

_Sam had forgotten an umbrella or his coat, just wearing a thin plaid button-down with a white undershirt peeking out from the the v of the loose collar of of his overshirt. Of course it had rained - you couldn’t even call that rain, it was more like the flooding happened to start in mid-air before it hit the ground. It came down in sheets, and Sam’s shirt was plastered to him in seconds. He ran to the car like his stupid floppy hair was going to dissolve or something. Dean just followed behind, his front soaked but the rest of him half-dry from his jacket._

_Sam was in the backseat, down to his undershirt and boxers, scrubbing himself off with a towel. Dean lifted his chin in the universal ‘move the fuck over, bro’ gesture and sat down, taking off his shoes and wet socks._

_Sam, of course, made a face. Dean snorted and mimed licking his own foot, which was supposed to make Sam wrinkle his nose, but instead he let out a distracted huff and looked away._

_“Really.” Dean smirked. It took a second, but he awkwardly got himself down from the bench seat and knelt, foot crunching into some fast food wrappers under the driver’s seat._

_And then he was kneeling between his baby brother’s knees, and Sam’s white undershirt was almost see-through from the rain and his stupid hair curled in on his forehead. Sam’s mouth was open like any *second* he was going to roll his eyes and push Dean away. Then make some kind of bitchface because Dean hadn’t started by getting him flowers or what the fuck ever Sam wanted instead of a decent clear comeon._

_But no, he bit his lip and popped the one tiny button on the front of his filled-out boxers, grinning shyly, a little bit of challenge in the corners of his eyes._

_It was still pouring. You couldn’t see your hand in front of your face, let alone notice Sam’s head thrown back inside the rear windshield, his adam’s apple bobbing almost in sympathy as Dean swallowed his cock down. The noise of the heavy rain on the Impala’s roof drowned out the shockingly loud gratified grunt that escaped Sam’s lips when Dean got his nose all the way to Sam’s pubes the first time. He pulled off with a ragged gasp, shot Sam a grin, and got back to work, bringing his hands into the action._

Dean’s hand was already on the button of his jeans. Button undone, he unzipped quickly letting out a breathy moan as he pulled his cock out of the confines of his boxers. He was hard, almost painfully so, cock curving up towards his navel, bead of precome on the tip.

Thumbing at the slit, he smeared the precome and started to jack, but it was too dry. He grunted and spat into his palm and starting again, easier this time with the glide of both, wished it were different hands, larger. Missed how those hands would cup his balls and stroke his shaft in firm, long strokes and whimpered.

He wanted those fingers back. Wanted their length filling him up, stretching his tight hole and fucking him until he begged, until he couldn’t think of anything else, until he _hurt_ in the best way. _Fuck._

Changing the angle, he quickened the strokes on his dick, more teasing the underside. He bucked up and started fucking his hand, wanting to be fucking Sam’s mouth instead. Wanting his fingers twisted up in that long brown hair, pulling the way Sammy liked it. 

He moaned, balls tight. He was so close, stroking even faster and grunting in time with it. The precome making everything a slick mess as he panted for air. He just needed more. He needed the scrape of blunt teeth against his neck, biting down and sucking, marking him up. _Sam’s_ teeth. _Sam’s_ lips on his neck making the bruise blossom on Dean’s skin. 

He gasped as the orgasm hit, taking his breath away, coming all over his hand and on his t shirt. Breathing hard, he melted into the seat as the aftershocks made him tremble, idly stroking his softening, over-sensitive cock. The pleasure-pain of it grounded him back in his bones. 

Tugging off his shirt, he wiped the come off his hand and gave his dick a thorough swipe before tucking it back into his pants. Shirt in hand, he watched the rain through the windshield for a long time, almost deciding not to brave the rain to get a fresh shirt from his duffel in the trunk, but the thought of Sam telling him not to be gross made the decision for him.

He killed the engine and opened the door with a faint creak, and he walked around to the trunk unconcerned by the rain. The hard drops left little pinpricks in their wake and the cold of it left him feeling more awake than he had in days, even as it started to let up. He looked up to see the clouds clearing in the distance. He closed his eyes against the feel of it, taking it all in, even his jeans getting soaked through at the waist. 

He didn’t look for a rainbow as the sun came out, just opened the trunk and dug around for dry clothes that would pass a sniff test. He changed in the backseat like they had done on that summer day years ago. Except this time, there wasn’t a huge elbow in his face, no one else’s freakishly long legs or anything to get in the way. 

Dean pulled himself back together with each piece of clothing down to his socks. The time for feeling sorry for himself was over. Every cage can be broken, and god help him, he was going to get his brother back and in the passenger seat.

Okay, maybe he’d let Sammy drive.

**Author's Note:**

> Authors' Notes: We haven't written any Wincest in quite a long time but it was a pleasure to work with AlexisJane to create this. AlexisJane's everything made this story SO MUCH MORE. They're pacing and tone and take on Dean is exquisite. Thanks bb for being down with the idea and for being such a lovely collaborator. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
> 
> Podficcer Notes:  
> I had the best time making this! The girls were so enthusiastic and the story they came up with is just wonderful. I couldn't ask for more. I'm really hoping that we can work together again. I had a blast. I hope the end result does the story justice : ) <3 xx


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